Black Swan
by Amaterasu Kinesi
Summary: "Where are they!" she demanded. "You know don't you? Since the two of you are as thick as thieves…" She laughed maniacally at her own joke. They were thieves because of her, the lot of them and they had no choice or say in the matter. Because he knew this was it... and now, it didn't matter that he was supposed to be her favorite, not anymore. JPOV


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**_ A/N: _**_To those who are new to my writing style; welcome. To those who are familiar with my style, I must proffer a warning. This story is totally different from any of my earlier stories and lacking, I would hope, none of the other's flair. You shall be the judge of that! Except that the intended couplings are Jasper and Bella and that everyone within the story is human, it would seem that there are no other similitudes to my earlier stories. _

___That being said, I would like to let everyone know that this story is a little on the dark side of things but will have a happy ending._ Promising: dark themes with (various) descriptive scenes of violence, child abuse (though not sexual), emotional abuse, language, and a promise of penance and romance. If you do not like to read anything overly violent or abusive, please go back, find something else to read, and do not proceed to read this story. I will respect that. If you do not mind a little violence to your dosage of daily reading, then by all means, please go right ahead and enjoy this little morsel! 

_Thank you for reading, always…_

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**_Disclaimer:_**

_For all intents and purposes;_

_No copyright infringement intended._

_The Twilight Saga and all characters involved within this story are the property of Stephenie Meyer._

However, the plot is entirely my own.

**_-This applies to the rest of the story._**

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**Black Swan**

Like a black panther with nothing but nimble, graceful, deliberate, and petrifying movements, with skin the color of almond, ablaze midnight eyes, and cascading hair that flickered dangerously behind and around her shoulders as black as ink, the commanding woman approached the scared boy on his hands and knees and with some dark humor watched him scurry without pause or signs of compassion etched into each of her powerful and resolute gait. There was no escape, the boy knew, because no matter how much he scrambled and hastened to flee from the woman's terrorizing approach, in no time at all, her lithe, rippling strides would lead her right to him and she would make him pay. Like now, he was once again trapped between the imposing and terrifying woman and a wall with no discernible way out.

_Oh… the woman was so angry with the boy that she was trembling with it and she couldn't help but punish him… Her precious boy, she was so fond of him and he had disappointed her like no other before him. _The only reason why he was still standing, breathing, and not as broken as she wanted to truly see him was because she was so very fond of him and needed to know how he'd managed his insolence under her close watch and tutelage. But once she _did_… he would be sorry and he would pay, that he would, and she would lose her precious boy, sadly._ But there would be others, there were always others that sought to please her and do her will… she was very persuasive. _

The woman stretched out her hand toward him like an uncoiling viper about to strike, nails long and pointed like claws, and he steeled himself for the pain that was sure to come the moment she reached her destination. When it did, her clawed fingers tightened through his hair and hauled him to his feet and the boy bit his lip and drew blood to stop his scream from reaching her ears. She didn't like it when they screamed and she _especially_ didn't like it when _he _screamed. According to her, it was a sign of weakness that she hadn't installed in him through her tutelage and the consequences would be far more severe if he did. She had taught him better than that.

"You little _fucker_!" the woman snarled angrily between clenched teeth. Using the rush and the added strength of the adrenalin coursing through her veins with the source of her indignation, she used both palms and pushed a fair-haired adolescent boy against the gray bricked wall viciously by the chest, cracking a few ribs in the process. "Where are they?!" she demanded. "You know, don't you?" She held him against the wall by his hair. "Since the two of you are as thick as thieves…" She laughed maniacally at her joke. They were thieves because of her, the lot of them and they had no choice or say in the matter.

The teen paled and a sweat broke out on his brow as he grimaced and held a firm palm against his cracked ribcage, while more bruises bloomed under his trembling hands as he tried to focus on something other than the dizzying pain and tried not to get sick again. But otherwise, he did not scream or give any other indication to show his discomfort or how much pain he was under. The woman clicked her tongue disapprovingly and with a jerk, she let go of his hair but didn't step away.

The dark-haired woman and the fair-haired adolescent boy had been at this for over an hour now, and the boy knew he couldn't take any more of this abuse and assault for much longer. For the last hour she would routinely slam him against the unyielding wall over and over and again, repeatedly kicking him and hitting him with the metal end of her belt, until she saw blood or he _begged_ her to stop, between heaves and sobs. Even then, sometimes, she would not stop and would not show mercy. Like the boy thought, she had found out about what he'd done, if not, she suspected.

Still, he knew that he needed to stay strong for his brothers and sisters, the others, who were around his age, some a year or two older and more than a handful, younger still. If he wanted her to leave them alone and out of this, he needed to stay conscious and maintain all her focus and anger directed at him. To keep them all safe, he would be the sacrifice and lay his life if that was the price he had to keep. After all, they were the only family he had ever known.

Adamant, her hand clutched the belt tightly within her white-knuckled grasp with sadistic glee as she exerted her domineering power over her _precious_ and _gifted_ boy and trembled with the surge of her fury. Face obscured by the eerie shadows her inky hair casted upon her angular features as it framed and veiled his view of her expression, all he could see was how she sneered grotesquely up at him from between glimpses of unobstructed view.

Saying nothing the adolescent boy stood before her with the support of the bricked wall behind him, two heads taller than woman abusing him and the very source of her unhinged fury, and shivered and trembled with pain, dread, and insurmountable fear, which she had worked into him with each kick and strike of her belt. Despite her anger, she was proud of him. Because after everything she had done to him, he was still standing, bruised, battered, and bloodied and not a sound escaped his split lips, but the occasional shuddering whimper. Her eyes rove over him appraisingly, assessing the damage she had inflicted upon him and her savage sneer widened.

"_Please_…" The boy didn't know what he was pleading for; he just wanted it all to end. That way, he could allow the darkness creeping at the periphery of his vision to eclipse the pain and surrender himself to the blissfulness of _not _feeling. Because he knew, _this_ was it... Somehow, they had gotten away with it and her unawareness had only lasted twenty-four hours and now, it didn't matter that he supposedly was her favorite, not anymore. The favoritism she usually showed him wouldn't save him from what she had in store for him, once he cracked and told her what he had done and she _truly_ made him pay.

"What did you do?" If her voice was any indication and could be seen as promises, what awaited him was a world of broken pain, which he suspected he probably wouldn't survive. Her voice sounded like thousands of heated shards lanced at his naked body and pierced, replacing every standing hair follicle on his trembling body and twisted in deeper. Further damaging and humiliating him. Because he had brought the force of her wrath upon himself, he had good reason to fear... Though it pained him to do so, the boy shook his head. "Who did it then?"

"No- I-" he stuttered. Trembling and staggering to stay upright, he pushed himself away from the support of the wall and tottered forward a couple of steps, while she pulled him to where she wanted him. The back of his shirt, his arms, and legs, all the way through his jeans bloodied and congealing, all except for his neck and face, which only contained mild and swelling bruises, while he stood where all could see the blatant evidence of his error and humiliation in full display, just like she wanted.

Meanwhile, the others helplessly watched, some with averted eyes and the younger ones, just five or six to eight, with tears in their eyes and running down their chubby cheeks, afraid and unable to interfere when she was this furious. Though they wanted to help their own, they did not want to risk being an auxiliary to her rampaging wrath and or, evoke her ire be turned on them instead. Therefore, they all stood out of harm's way and as far away as she would allow from the scene that unfolded before their very wide and terrified eyes, like they always did when she cornered one of them to extract information.

"After everything I have done for you, and this, _this_ is how you repay me?" she demanded with a hiss and circled around his quivering body like a predator to a prey, while the cool leather of her belt, bent in half, touched his tender skin and she probed and dared him to get out of line with the promise of its kiss so she could hit him with it again.

Unable to stop his counteraction, the teen flinched, running a tremulous hand through his wisp fair locks uncertainly and tugging nervously. The bite of the belt to the backs of his knees followed the wake of his actions. Gritting his teeth, no sound escaped him as he inhaled sharply against the prickled pain. This was the first time she had been this angry with him and he didn't know what to do, or say, only what he felt… her escalating wrath and frustration, the others tangible fear and helplessness, and his own dejection and fear.

"I'm sorry, Maria," he finally managed, while his lips quivered and teeth clattered with the constant violence of his shivers. Soon, his knees would give out, he knew. Chancing an apprehensive glance at Maria, the teen took in the sight of her clenched jaw, the way the corner of her lips twitched and nostrils flared, feral features transformed, and blazed eyes bathed with contempt through wide eyes.

Immediately, everything within him was telling him to run and not look back, and he wanted to back away more than anything and do just that, but he couldn't. His lead-like feet rooted to the spot, immobile. The only thing he managed was a small and pitiful whimper of apprehension, which ripped unbidden through the passage of his bobbing throat and out his lips. Now, his violent shivers intensified and he could barely hold himself upright, knees wanting to cave in.

"What was that, Jasper?" Maria hissed dangerously and everyone around them stiffened, drew collective breaths and winced slightly as Jasper's knees gave and he hit the floor with a harsh defeat. Ignoring the pain that jolted up his thighs as his knees painfully kissed and pressed against the splintered floorboards Jasper, too, held his breath, knowing that he had said the wrong thing a moment too late and that he'd have to repeat himself. Because, that was what Maria wanted.

"I'm sorry..." Jasper murmured again and the room was so still and quite, breathless even, that were a pin to drop, the sound would be deafening and cutting.

"You are _sorry_?" Maria confirmed, her voice deceptively calm for Jasper could see her eyes growing cold and distant as they narrowed menacingly and held his gaze. Knowing he had no other choice but to answer, Jasper let out a shuddering breath, perceptively squared his shoulders, held Maria's gaze unflinching, thankfully, and nodded, just slightly in the hopes that she wouldn't notice the motion. No such luck. "You little fucker!" she viciously growled, "What are you sorry for?!"

Before Jasper could register her doing so, Maria stepped forward and slapped him hard across the face with her open palm. The force behind the slap was enough to turn his head and make him bite his tongue and while Jasper registered the metallic taste of blood on his tongue, Maria's nails clawed and raked at the delicate skin of his cheek on the retrieve and with a burning sting, drew blood. Admiring the damage and enjoying Jasper's shock as he cradled his cheek against the sting and wetness, retrieved his hand, and gazed down to find it stained with fresh blood. Jasper's head snapped up in alarm and his eyes met Maria's cruel stare. Maria simply sneered.

"_Blood…_," Jasper choked out, surprised. Or was it one of the other kids that had screamed? Though Maria spilled Jasper's blood more times than he dared to count over the last hour or so, it was only now registering.

"It really was you..." Maria's feral and almond colored features transformed into something grotesque and unattractive, though familiar as she glowered down at Jasper's prostrated form. "After everything we've endured and everything I have given you," she continued, "I have clothed you, fed you, and you _dared_ go behind my back and betray me?!" Jasper shook at her feet violently, breathing shallow. "Why, have I not been magnanimous enough with you?!"

If Jasper had not known any better, he would have believed that the hurt and betrayal etched on Maria's face was truly sincere then. But he did know better and he knew it wasn't. Like everything else about Maria, it was all an act, a deception to try to ensnare him once more into a false sense of security. Now, Jasper could not believe that he had once seen the woman who now belittled him as someone who cared and loved him like a mother; the way he thought he loved her in turn. It had taken him ten years, since he'd first come to live with her, to understand the nature of Maria's true colors.

"He's my brother..." Jasper mumbled and for the first time since Maria had started the brutal confrontation, he allowed himself to bask in his sense of pride, glad that he had done what he had for his brother and sister and at great risk. "And she, my sister." It was barely a whisper, but he added, "I will not betray them." _No regrets… Except, I should have gone with them, _he now realized.

"I think you've forgotten who you are and where you are, my boy," Maria mocked and laughed humorlessly. "Look around you!" she urged, her arms wide and sweeping aimlessly at their surroundings. "This isn't home. This is an orphanage!" Jasper swallowed thickly as Maria drew closer to him and buried her fingers in his hair, tilting his head up jerkily with a harsh tug of his hair. "You have no brothers, no parents, no family, and no relations. Your sense of loyalty should only lay in me!" She reminds him and her voice takes on a sweeter decadence as she continues, "You are unwanted and that was why you were brought to me, and never forget." Deceptively gentle, like a mother's touch, she caressed his stinging cheek as she leaned forward and kissed his painfully pounding chest, just over his erratic heart.

_No, no, no… that can't be true… _Jasper silently prayed. Jasper swallowed, repulsed by her touch but unable to will his body into action so as to get away. He just didn't have the strength any more and thus, he remained mute and still in his state of pain. Maria pulled back and leaned in again, a sardonic smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Bringing her lips to brush against Jasper's ear, she whispered, "Same goes for the lot of them..." Though Jasper couldn't see her do it, he felt Maria point to the other children over her shoulder. "Are you really that naïve, Jasper, as to think that they all consider you their brother?" Jasper trembled and closed his eyes against the sound of her mocking, quiet laughter, wishing he had the strength to cover his ears instead. "If they were really your brothers and sisters, don't you think they should do something to help you and take some of the blame themselves?"

"I wouldn't ask them to," Jasper whimpered, anguished.

"How about young Peter and Charlotte, hmm, the ungrateful little traitors you went behind my back to help?" Maria's dangerous hiss sent a wave of unease through Jasper's system that settled deep in his belly, making him want to barf what he hadn't already. "Why didn't they ask you to come with them when you helped them escape? Where was their sense of loyalty to you?"

_They had, they had!_ Jasper wanted to shout. Instead, he remained tight-lipped. A trickle of doubt clouded his mind, just what Maria had aimed for all along with her subtle mind games. Feeling Maria's smile, Jasper shook his head, and with it, too, his doubts away. She jabbed at his bruised ribs and Jasper couldn't contain his scream of pain. One of the others joined in on his scream but was quickly stifled as not to call attention. Jasper was grateful for the distraction and a little worried.

Instantly, his eyes fluttered open with some effort and quickly scanned wherever his vision could reach in his urgent need to make sure that the others were okay. His eyes locked with Emily, a pretty young girl with thick black hair of no more than twelve with a horrible scar where Maria had marred three deep and long gashes along her sun-kissed skin on her right cheek with a hot poker one night during one of Maria's temper tantrums, because, according to Maria, the girl was too pretty for her to be an orphan.

Maria delivered the final blow as she added with a murmur, "They've probably forgotten all about you and how you helped them escape me, now that they are long gone…" Pushing against Jasper's chest with the small palm of her hand, Maria took a steps away from him and looked at him critically, head tilted to one side and a condescending smile curved the corners of her supple lips into a gloating sneer.

"It doesn't matter if they do," Jasper lied quietly and convincingly. Maria's smile vanished and her eyes turned to slits. Fidgeting, he swallowed and bravely continued, "I don't mind sacrificing myself for them, even if they didn't ask me to." Maria hissed. "The blame is mine, there's no point in sharing it, and I'm not that sorry for helping Peter and Charlotte escape you!"

Again, Maria slapped him without warning or restraint and Jasper hadn't seen it come until it was too late and her palm hit him painfully across his other cheek and drew blood. This time, Jasper refused the urge and managed not to cradle his cheek until the sting ebbed. Jasper felt and saw the room spin as everyone started to shout and speak all at once like loose cannons and his back crashed heavily against the splintered floorboards but Jasper struggled to keep Maria in sight and remained cognizant with the last of his strength.

"Ungrateful little fucker!" _Slap!_ "How dare you?" Maria was on top of Jasper and she _clawed _and _slapped _him again and again_- _"Tell me now, where did they go and how did you manage to weasel those ungrateful little traitors out-?!" The room spun and Jasper had to close his eyes…

"You're killing him, stop, please, please stop!"

"Do you want to die in his place instead?"

_No, no… leave them alone… it's me you want_, Jasper plead and his fingers languidly flexed around Maria's arm to restrain her and hold her to him but she ignored him.

"Please, please… _Stop_…"

_I'm okay… the pain is almost gone…_

"You are all a bunch of ingrate little fuckers, the lot of you!"

_Leave them alone! Take me and do whatever… Just leave them alone…_

"Someone, hurry and call the police!"

"If you call the police, I'll kill him!"

_Do it… Just leave them alone…_

"You crazy bitch, get away from him! You nearly killed him!"

_If I could laugh… But it's okay… I'm the sacrifice…_

"I- I c-called the p-police…"

_Good… they'll be safe…_

"No!"

_ What's going on…? The pain… it's back… why is the pain back?_

"What did he ever do to you?!"

"Don't blame me! This is all your fault, you little traitors!"

"But you didn't need to _stab _him!"

_Ah… that's why… it doesn't hurt any more…_

"You, call an ambulance too!"

"Someone, quick, bring me some towels, or any clean linens you can find. We need to stop the bleeding…"

_There's no need… I'll be fine… as long as they are…._

"Please… let him live… he was protecting us…"

Suddenly, his consciousness began to ebb and he could only feel and hear everything around him… Maria was screaming something fierce and the children were shouting and crying… Jasper felt like he was crying. His body ached so much and he was sure he was _broken_, and then, though it couldn't be possible, _Peter_ was telling him something that he couldn't catch…

"Stay with us, okay?"

_Okay…_

Jasper couldn't will his eyes to flutter open so he could try to read Peter's lips… he was probably imagining things and Peter was probably not there. But his eyelids felt too heavy… his limbs and body felt too heavy… but shortly, Jasper was _floating _and _soaring_…

Then, there were sirens that wailed in the distance and started to get nearer and louder, making his head pound so Jasper gave up and succumbed to the abyss…

_They are safe…_

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Jolting awake, I'm covered in a cold sheen of panic… and disoriented. Trying to swallow and unable to, I sit up in bed, feeling out of breath. My breathing is a harsh and painful whizz in my chest and my ears are ringing with the wail of someone screaming in terror. Unsure of where I am, I gaze around me and try not to panic. However, I freeze the moment my eyes focus on something, _someone _at the foot of my bed. Shaking my head in denial, I try to blink and shy away from image after image of a woman coming at me with a belt and a knife held on each hand and poised for attack. My body quivers violently and I continue to blink and blink but she doesn't go away… still advancing.

Panic rakes through me and my skin crawls and raises as every hair on my body erects to full alert. _Breathe… _I tell myself. But I can't. Again, I try to inhale but I'm heaving and drowning with each shallow breath, deprived of sufficient oxygen. Sneering at my weakness, the woman launches and I scramble out of bed to get away from her and dropping to the floor, crawl to a corner on my hands and knees with painful haste. Once my back is against the adjoining corners of the wall and my body is in a tight ball with my knees pressed against my chest, I shield my face with my forearms crossed before me and wait to feel the bite of the belt or the slash of the blade, but nothing happens…

And still, the howling screams do not stop… but she's _gone_…

Clutching and clawing at the rawness of my throat, I realize that it is the sound of my own screams that have finally woke me and are now a rasping echo around me. Though I try, I can't seem to stop the screams that tear apart my throat. Despite the knowledge and the pain it causes me, I don't know how to make them stop.

Instead, I glance around me once again as every hair follicle covering my body prickles with a warning. Everything around me is still dark. Shadows within shadows and they are shifting menacingly toward me, trying to suffocate me. Trying to stop the dull ache in my head, I bury my face in my hands and concentrate on count back from ten to one, while trying to ease my breathing and calm my heartbeats back to regularity.

My sense of hyperawareness alerts me to an approaching presence a moment before I hear the garbled whispers of a disembodied voice, which belongs to the intruder, and another two voices and another, following closely behind in quick secession as they banter among themselves… Teeth rattling, I stiffen as tentative footfalls make their way toward me. Abruptly, the shadows and darkness vanishes as a low _click_ echoes and my room floods with warm light. Blinking furiously against the sudden light, I glance toward my bedroom door straight ahead. There are two unwelcome figures still approaching me and saying things I cannot understand…

_No, no, no… no… no… _I scream, but no sound comes out as my previously persistent screams turn to unintelligible, croaky moans that soon die in my throat. Again, I open my mouth, desperately trying to speak, and _nothing_. I have no voice.

Instinctively, I shy away from them and try to shrink into my corner of the wall and disappear but they don't try to reach or touch me, they regard me from a distance. I am grateful but wary. Holding my knees tightly to my chest, I rest my chin on my knees, and try to piece their faces into a recognizable shape, instead of the garbled blurs and shadows they appear to be. Too afraid to do otherwise, I try to formulate the distinct sounds of their voices into intelligible words, and after a tense moment of discomforting white noise, it works…

"Jasper, Jasper, you are safe," the voice coaxes and a moment later, once I have processed the meaning of the words, I am distractedly aware of the fact that I do know and recognize the voice, and that it is male. "She can't hurt you…"

_He knows... He knows… _I swallow compulsively and my cry dies slowly.

"That's it," he soothes warmly and still doesn't touch me, or comes closer. Again, I am thankful for their distance. "It was only a nightmare, a memory son." _Carlisle…_ I realize and my body tremors. "You are safe, now. You are in my home and no one can hurt you," Carlisle assures me and I perceptibly relax.

_ Another nightmare… another memory… I am safe… no one can touch me, Carlisle won't let them… _I find myself thinking, trying to process his words and make myself believe them.

"I won't let anyone harm you, I promise you," he pledges and I believe him, despite the fact that it is a promise that he always says.

Listening to Carlisle's crooning words, I try to sooth myself and will my erratic heart to dwindle down into a less bruising pound as Carlisle's face comes into vivid focus and I spy Esme's worried face just over his shoulder. Keeping the both of them in sight, I moan and point at my throat, wanting to let them know somehow that I ache there. Carlisle nods, understanding.

Without breaking eye contact and as not to startle me, he speaks quietly, "Esme?"

"Yes, Carlisle," Esme answers just as quietly and I can see more of her now as she deliberately slow sidesteps Carlisle and my eyes connect with hers. "You want some water and something to sooth the ache?" she offers delicately, her words enunciated so I can process them as she worries her hands together. I nod slowly, uncertain and she beams at me and I nod again, confident. "I'll go to the kitchen and fetch you something, sweetheart," she informs me gently.

Placing a hand on her husband's shoulder, Esme squeezes down gently and without waiting for an answer from Carlisle, she turns toward the door and is gone the next moment I allow myself to blink. I stare after her thoughtfully for a moment and I feel my lips twitch into a tentative smile. Esme is kind and nothing like the woman in my memories and nightmares… I shudder… No, Esme is everything I hope my biological mother is, or was…

"This is the first time we hear your voice…," Carlisle murmurs, distracting me from my musings. I blink up at him and he smiles sheepishly back at me and I realize I wasn't supposed to have heard that. "You have a unique and lovely voice," he offers, now that he's been caught. Embarrassed, I flush and look away from him as a sheepish smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. "May I sit?"

Alarmed, I glance at Carlisle and follow his outstretched hand, which points to the trunk of dark mahogany at the foot of my bed with its three plush coal gray decorative cushions for sitting. Frowning, I look up at his open face to see him with a smile playing on his lips, waiting for my permission, and blinking, I nod and grant it. He'll be far enough from me there. As I watch him like a hawk might watch a mouse, Carlisle takes a slow and cautious stride to the end of my bed. Five strides later, he takes his seat and his body slightly shifts in my direction, so I can still see his hands and face, with his left ankle resting over his right knee, looking at ease.

"Why don't you come and sit on the bed and get comfortable?" he offers after a little while.

After a moment, since Carlisle doesn't seem to have any ulterior motives, I uncoil my body and shakily stand to my feet with the support of the wall. Once I know my legs will not give out on me, I cautiously make my way to my bed while keeping a wary eye on Carlisle. Getting into bed, I press my back comfortably against the headboard and get comfortable under the covers.

Shifting slightly on his seat at the foot of my bed, Carlisle gazes sideways at me and smiles approvingly. "That's much better, isn't it?" Sheepishly, I nod. My long legs are now stretching out before me, while my left arm stretches across my chest protectively with my hand holding my right forearm just above my elbow and my right hand rests on my lap. Much more comfortable than the floor and the wall, indeed, I couldn't agree more.

"How do you think I did?" Esme's quiet voice inquires of Carlisle as she comes back into the room fifteen minutes later and makes me jump slightly. Looking toward the door I watch her walk toward us with a tray held securely between her hands, and when I glance at her face, she is apologetic. I nod.

"Grated radish and shaved ice?" Carlisle muses appraisingly, craning his neck just slightly to look at the contents of the tray.

"With a side of honey," she quips. Glancing at me as she adds, "I wasn't sure if Jasper likes honey." She frowns. "Do you like honey, Jasper, sweetheart?" I nod in the affirmative. "Good thing I thought to bring it then."

"You did terrific, my wife," Carlisle praises and Esme blushes delicately at his praise, glancing over at him coquettishly while Carlisle offers her an impish smile. "You are certainly a doctor's wife…"

"Oh… I've picked up a thing or two."

"You are irresistibly amazing, Esme," Carlisle commends, impressed. "Will you never cease to amaze me…?"

Glancing between the two, I smile and flush slightly. These two are always shamefully flirting with each other no matter who's watching… It truly is a pity that they couldn't have children of their own after Esme underwent those two miscarriages and the doctor's told them they were all out of options. I would have loved to meet their children for sure.

"Jasper, may I walk to your side of the bed so I can put this tray on your bedside table?" Esme asks, interrupting my reverie. Swallowing nervously, I stare between Esme and the tray with intense worry creasing my brow and at a loss as to how to answer her question. _What if she touches me? _"I just want to put the tray down so you can help yourself to what I've brought for you and then, I'll come back and sit with Carlisle," Esme assures me with a trusting smile. "That is all, I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die."

Smiling lightly at her childish antics, I nod dejectedly and gather my feet, holding my knees to my chest once again. Beaming, Esme walks slowly but purposefully by Carlisle who stops her to place a kiss on her elbow before allowing her to proceed and walk over to my side of the bed as I watch her closely and wearily. Maintaining eye contact, Esme avoids coming too close to the bed and risk setting me off in a panic attack. Looking fleetingly away and making sure that she is placing the tray on my bedside table, she glances back at me reassuringly and places the tray on top.

Watching her go with some relief, I feel the tension steadily ebb and wait until she is securely sitting in Carlisle's lap with his arms around her waist to look away and glance at the contents of the tray. There is water, a side of honey, a spoon, napkins, and a wide-mouthed, clear glass dessert dish with paneled sides that Esme usually uses to serve us ice cream in filled to the brim with shaved ice. _And grated radish,_ I remind myself, remembering Carlisle's words. Chancing giving my back to Esme and Carlisle, I throw my legs over the side of my bed and make to pick up the spoon.

"Just pour the honey over the ice and mix it up, it should still be warm," Esme instructs lightly and I tense up. "Only if you like, of course…"

Looking over my shoulder I confirm that they are both still seated and haven't moved an inch. Exhaling, I relax and do as she asked as I make a grab for the honey glass container in the shape of a bear. Like Esme mentioned it would be, it feels comfortably warm to the touch. Pouring the desired amount of honey over the contents filling the dessert dish, I idly mix the contents round and round.

When I'm sure it is all mixed properly, I grab the foot of the dessert dish between my fingers and ease back into the bed and wiggling back, settle myself against the headboard with my legs crossed Indian style. Acutely aware that Esme and Carlisle are watching me; I lift a spoonful of shaved ice, grated radish, and honey and tentatively place the cool concoction in my mouth.

Instantly, it practically melts deliciously in my mouth once it touches my tongue, leaving a cool and sweet taste to linger and easily goes down my throat, soothing the rawness. Surprised, I quickly glance at Esme who is smiling encouragingly at me as Carlisle kisses her cheek with his eyes on me.

"Tastes good?" she asks hopefully and I nod enthusiastically before taking another generous scoop. "Eat up then." She giggles jovially and Carlisle chuckles, placing a kiss on her exposed shoulder.

Without needing to be told twice, I do just as the Doctor's wife has instructed and eat up, surprised by each enjoyable bite that further soothes my discomfort as it coolly goes down my throat and the sweet taste of honey lingers on my tongue.

* * *

…

* * *

After I finish eating my small late night treat and drinking my water, Esme takes everything with her at my nod of acceptance and with a final word of goodnight she is gone. Following in her footsteps, Carlisle trails behind his wife but lingers by the door to glance back at me. Staring back at him, I blink and he gives me a patient but pointed look and I understand what he's waiting for.

While I settle back into bed and under the covers, Carlisle continues to patiently wait on me to give him the okay with a finger on the light switch. Looking up at Carlisle from under the covers, I try to convey the words of thanks that I can't form into words as I nod. With a nod and an understanding smile, Carlisle casts my room into night once again.

"Goodnight, Jasper," Carlisle's silhouette murmurs warmly from the doorway.

Sighing and sinking deeper into my mattress, I watch Carlisle turn and leave, wishing I could return the simple words. Once again, I am alone with my fears and no one to chase them away, only ominous shadows and a nightlight that accentuates their shifting nature. Staring out the door, I'm glad that Carlisle has left my door wide open and that the hallway light is still on and casting a dim glow into my room, somewhat chasing away the darkness. Not everything is in shadow and the knowledge is comforting… Pulling the covers to my chin, I stare at the ceiling and ponder…

_…_

My name is Jasper Whitlock and for as long as I can remember, I have been an orphan, born and raised in Texas until the age of fourteen, the year I almost lost my life and became a lost soul. Somehow, I managed to survive and have been given a miraculous second chance at life, thanks to the Cullen's. But now that I have my whole future ahead of me, I'm too afraid and haunted by the memories of my violent past to actually do something with it and live my life.

_Broken_, marred by scars of thousands of terrors unspoken that's who I am. Guilty and blemished, tainted and anguished, unwanted and loathed, haunted and afraid, _so afraid..._ because I feel _her_ near and every day and night I am drowning in sorrows never forgotten or forgiven, without a voice. Finding it hard to exist, I keep running into myself and drowning out the sound of my sorrows, hoping to find somebody better. Still, I'm trying to prove whether it's true, what they say, that in the end, what leaves you broken, makes you better.

Forgiveness for the woman who was stronger comes so painfully and it chills to the bone, because I was just a little boy and I can't go back. _I don't want to be broken… But_ _I have no voice… I don't want to care and I don't want to hate… _So I live inside that same reoccurring nightmarish dream, where everything tastes so bittersweet, like blood.

As long as it agrees with how _she_ feels, _she_ keeps me dancing in my sleep. _Every time… _I can never know what to expect, _she's_ manic, _manic_… _She_ loves me and hates me, I break down, _she_ feels good, and then, I bleed from insecurity. _When will _she_ let me heal from this?_ I love _her_ still… Because face to face _she's_ so sweet like candy sticking to my teeth, but underneath so damaging. For all the eyes that look at me,_ she's _working my anxieties… I'm so afraid so_ she _tries to break me.

_…_

_They say it will never happen again, they're manic…_

_Nothing anyone says will wash it away, I'm manic._

_..._

* * *

_…_

* * *

Two years have gone by since my near death experience now and I still marvel at the turns of events and how I managed to end up here in Forks, Washington, with Doctor Carlisle and Esme Cullen. Somehow, maybe it was because of the near death experience, fate had turned kind at the last second and granted me the luck that it had once stolen from me. Call it whatever you want, fate, chance, mercy, a miracle, or luck. All I know is that after being beaten to a pulp by Maria and suffering several lacerations, I had managed to hold on to my last breath… come what may.

Consequently, Carlisle had been one of the many doctor's attending a medical convention in Texas and had taken a tour of the same hospital that the ambulance had rushed to get me to and had just been viewing the emergency room when the paramedics had moved me from the ambulance into the hospital building on a stretcher with Peter and Charlotte fretting in tow and refusing to leave my side.

Witnessing the commotion, the compassionate doctor in Carlisle had not been able to walk away and not investigate or see if he could lend a hand. The moment his expert eyes assessed my bloodied and tattered condition and deemed it critical, he had offered to step in, even though he was not on duty and it wasn't the hospital he worked at, he just wouldn't take _'No'_ for an answer.

Resigned and since Carlisle was not someone who one should argue with and that if they didn't do something soon I would negligently die without the hospital even trying to safe me, the doctor in charge allowed Carlisle to do as he wished. Efficiently, he commanded the chaotic situation and brought everyone's focus into what _needed _to be done, while earning Peter and Charlotte's trust when he asked them to follow but stay out of the way.

Needless to say, he brought me back from the brink of death and saved my life, in more ways than one, and I shall forever be indebted to him. I have never been brave enough to ask Carlisle why he did it or why he thought I was worth saving when he didn't know anything about me. For all he knew, I could have been some rebellious teenager involved in a gang fight and finally got what was coming to me. However, from what Carlisle has told me, he believes that all lives are worth saving and everyone is deserving of a second chance at life, or penance, and that I was no exception. Though I don't know if I agree or can, for that matter, Carlisle is one of the most compassionate people I know, hands down.

From then on, though my pulse was steady, my heartbeat strong, and every necessary cable and IV had been systematically hooked to me, and Carlisle had done everything necessary and within his control to keep me out of the danger zone, I was still unconscious, trapped in a trauma-induced coma and it was up to me now, whether I wanted or had the _will_ to live. At least, that's what Peter and Charlotte told me Carlisle had told them once all the commotion had died down and it was just them, Carlisle, me, and my beeping machines and monitors in the room.

It took me exactly seven days, thirteen hours, and twenty-two seconds to fight through the fog of my trauma-induced coma into consciousness. Peter and Charlotte have yet to let me live that one down, reminding me of how much I made them fret through those _long_ one-hundred and eighty-one hours of unnerving uncertainty. Since they had both stayed by my bedside the entire time, hands clasped together and fingers knotted, and refused to leave my side, it was understandable.

Even when they'd been informed, multiple times, that visiting hours were over, they had desist and stayed adamant in their stubbornness to remain with me at all times, even if it meant forgoing sleep and food for the time being. Honestly the fierceness of their love for each other and me, overprotection, and disdainful distrust of anyone who tries to separate us are to this day unparalleled. Something that Carlisle quickly caught on to and remedied soon after making sure everything was in order with me, earning their respect from the get go.

But when I did come to, everything hurt and it was worse than it had been _during _the moment the damage had been actually inflicted. With the sharp intrusion of the pain and the disorientation, I didn't know at the moment _why _I was in pain; all I could feel was panic and alienation.

Subsequently, I felt like I was going insane because everything around me was beeping and there were so many disjointed voices speaking in tongues I could not understand, words that sounded like moans, static, and wails and that were _too _loud. Of course, the moment I tried to block out the cacophony of disjointed noises, I noticed the IV and the other cables that seemed to sprout right out of my body and that set off another panic.

Therefore, it easily could be concluded that as soon as I woke, for like five or maybe ten minutes, I was immediately put under an unease, medical-induced sleep via anesthetics. _Thankfully_, that had been dreamless. Much to Peter's and Charlotte's horror, at first, I didn't recognize them the second time I woke, actually noticed them, and didn't panic.

However, the longer they talked to me and tried to get me to speak, I started to remember things in sporadic, lucid flashes and when it all came back to me… I couldn't stand being touched, so I had tried to scream out my protest but… when I tried to scream or speak… nothing but _muteness_ could be heard, though my mouth opened and closed. Once again, I was medically induced into comatose…

My third time waking into consciousness, I learned from Peter that the trauma I had suffered had rendered me mute and that was why no matter how much I tried, my screams were voiceless. It took me a long and pregnant moment to process this information under the anxious gazes of Peter and Charlotte, waiting. However, once I did, my vision became blurred with tears and their wetness trailed down the apple of my cheeks unbidden and silent and I couldn't stop them. Seeing my reaction, Peter and Charlotte's tears also began to fall unbidden and ignoring the fact that I panicked whenever anyone tried to touch me, they each somberly flanked me and pulled me into a tender embrace as the three of us cried together and mourned.

Only Peter and sometimes Charlotte could touch me without triggering a panic, we learned from the sorrowful experience once someone else tried to approach me and I lost it, breaking into uncontrollable and violent shudders and fainted from lack of oxygen. Many times during my stay at the hospital, Peter and Charlotte had helplessly watched through wide and worried eyes as the doctors sedated me so I wouldn't harm myself through my nightmares or my precarious fear of anyone coming too close and touching me.

Even through my panic and the rushing confusion of doctors and nurses coming in and out of my room, day in and day out, every time I suffered a panic attack, Peter and Charlotte, still, refused to leave my side. Wherever I went, they, too, would follow and if by some miracle I managed to qualm my panic long enough to eat, they, too, would eat. With time, Carlisle and Esme's and their love, and patience, it got better but I still prefer for no one to touch me if preventable… especially after a nightmare, when my senses are heighten and my hyperawareness makes everything feel like a whirlwind of prickling pins and needles by the thousands biting the skin at once.

Later, I also learned how I had managed to get sent to the hospital in the first place. Peter and Charlotte had bravely come back for me after I had helped them escape, of course, their loyalty knowing no bounds and at great risk. Apparently, they had gone straight to the nearest police station the moment they were out of the clear and they were positive Maria wasn't coming after them.

Once at the station, it had taken them an entire day of pleading, persistence, and showing their own scars from Maria's ruthless abuses as evidence to very bewildered officers to convince the police to follow them to our orphanage and rescue me just in the nick of time. _My pact brother and sister… more precious to me than anyone else in this world and part of the reason I am still alive._ Having heard the accounts of my rescue, I had felt so ashamed for letting Maria plant that moment's seed of doubt but I haven't doubted either of them since. After all, I know them better than anyone and they know me better than anyone, and I owe them my life as well but we are even. However, as for Carlisle and Esme, I am still indebted to them.

Once it established, by all doctors and nurses alike, that I could _not_ be trusted to stay awake without trying to further mutilate my body by trying to remove all the cables protruding from my aching skin or making too sudden movements that could open up my healing wounds again, and probably cause my cracked ribs to heal wrongly or puncture a lung, and they had all given up on trying to reason with me and instead, called Doctor Carlisle Cullen to intervene. Instantly suspicious of this so-called Doctor Cullen, I made up my mind to make him give up on me too.

As it was, the moment I saw Dr. Carlisle Cullen, I knew, deep down within me, that he was a good man and that he could be trusted, so all my plans of being difficult and insolent with the good doctor went out the metaphorical window. My gut feeling was instantly confirmed the moment Peter and Charlotte greeted him with genuine warmth and smiles, putting me at ease, and I learned he was the one who had saved my life. Had I been able to, I would have thanked him profusely, like Peter and Charlotte had done.

Carlisle has amazing bedside manners now and so he did back then, when he addressed me he was always soft-spoken and paused, making sure that I always understood what he was saying and never tried to touch me or make me uncomfortable with his proximity. As anyone can imagine, I took a liking to the man, almost immediately.

Therefore, the moment Carlisle presented me with the tempting option of taking me away from the hospital and back to the home he shared with his home, though surprised and convinced that his offer was too good to possibly be true, I hesitated only a moment before enthusiastically accepting.

Once I'd nodded my agreement, Carlisle smiled so jovially and wide that his eyes crinkled at the corners and I felt like I might go blind or looked like a junky high on opium. No sooner had I agreed and he was calling in his wife, Esme Cullen, and introducing her to all of us. Esme was all bright smiles and warmth with a side of sunshine, oozing potential awesome mom through her pores to the point that it felt just as blinding as her husband's jovial smile. I liked her the moment she walked through the door, all presence, willowy figure, and soft waves of auburn hair that fell to her shoulders and swayed when she did.

As soon as Esme learned and understood the deep bond Peter and Charlotte shared with me and saw the reluctant but genuine acceptance of my upcoming adoption etched on their bashfully contrite young faces, she consulted with Carlisle in hushed tones by a corner and out of earshot. Meanwhile the three of us looked on with apprehension and curiosity as they sorted things out among themselves. Wrapping up their conversation with a quick peck on the lips, Carlisle and Esme had turned toward us simultaneously with matching grins and announced that Peter and Charlotte would be coming home with us as well, if they wanted to, of course.

Pointless to say but, Peter and Charlotte had accepted the offer instantly and with bashful enthusiasm, smiling widely and brightly at the relatively young couple and me before turning to each other for a tight embrace with matching smiles. Right then, I couldn't help but observe and admire that Esme was and is a very coy woman, who knows how to pick and win a fight in a fashion all of her own. Because, had it not been for her quick thinking, I suspect, they wouldn't have been able to take me with them otherwise, despite my already having had agreed, not if Peter and Charlotte had anything to say about it.

Everything became a whirlwind after Doctor Carlisle and Esme Cullen spent hours getting to know the three of us and we got to know them while they told us what it would be like to live with them and showed us glimpses through pictures. Fascinated, the only thing the three of us managed to do was to stare in wide-eyed wonderment at the couple we would soon call our parents and long for all the things they were promising us. None of us had ever had anything like what they were telling us we could look forward to… our own place to call home, three meals a day, room, bed, clean clothes, a pool, TV, computer, cell phone, and even a pet, if we wanted! It was all too unbelievable and surreal, enough to leave us all reeling and tired once they had to leave and start putting things into motion.

The following day, Carlisle was telling us that he had contacted his lawyer and talked to him about gathering as much information on Peter, Charlotte, and I as they could through records and the help of a detective. Apparently we needed birth certificates, hospital records, and history reports in order to do all the necessary arrangements and paperwork to adopt the three of us in compliance to the Texas State laws of adoption and take us to home with them as soon as possible.

Despite everyone at the hospital advising them otherwise, they were adamant about their mutual decision and wouldn't let anyone change their minds. They paid hospital fees, sought out the best lawyers for the impending court trial, got the process of adoption into motion, and made sure that Maria stayed as far away from me as possible and behind bars.

Now, two years later and though it frustrates me to no end and I have tried to remedy the situation by every imaginable and imaginative measures, I still can't speak or communicate without the help of pen and paper or Peter's uncanny ability to put my unwritten and unspoken thoughts into words. _It seriously freaks me out every time he does that and after, I always find myself wondering how he does it. But Charlotte's no better… _With that last thought filtering through my subconscious, I allow sleep to take me into its embrace.

* * *

…

* * *

**Two Weeks Later**

"Morning, Jasper!" Peter's quiet knock followed by his overly cheerful greeting brought my attention to his presence just outside the threshold of my bedroom door. Peter had opened my bedroom door while I was changing and I hadn't even noticed.

_I was sure I had locked that… _Buttoning up my washed-out charcoal knee ripped jeans over my boxer briefs, I glare at him. He knows how much I hate his sneaking up on me. But he simply chuckles with an impish smile quirking at the corners of his mouth and enters my room, unfazed, pocketing his pocket knife with deliberate flamboyance. _He had picked my lock!_ Narrowing my eyes at him, I shake my head reproachfully.

"Jasper, it's too early in the morning for you to be moody!" he points out and slinks an arm amiably over my naked shoulders with not a care. "I thought your moping was reserved for _after_ lunch hour?" Rolling my eyes, I good-naturedly shrug his arm off my shoulders and grin at him as he pouts.

_Where's Charlotte?_ I silently ask him with my eyes while grabbing my off white with gray splatters and purposefully holed t-shirt off the bed and putting it on over my head of flaxen messy wisp.

"You know girls…," he offers as an explanation the moment my eyes are visible from under the collar of my t-shirt and shrugs offhandedly. Understanding, I nod.

_So… why are you here?_ _Not that I don't like you being here… _I silently ask with a smirk, eyes twinkling, and again, he catches on as if I were actually speaking the words.

"Funny, Whitlock," he mumbles dryly and I grin. His scowl makes an appearance. "Dad has some important announcement to make and wanted me to come get you so he can tell us all as a family," Peter explains. Intrigued, I raise a questioning brow. He shrugs and sighs, pocketing his hands on his back pockets. "My guess is as good as yours." Frowning, I try to venture a guess but come up with nothing. "I'm going to go tell Charlotte next." Peter takes out his pocketknife and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. I roll my eyes at him. _Sometimes he is incorrigible._ "Come downstairs once you're done?" Peter offers, slapping my back with his open palm and smirking.

_Sure, sure…,_ I scowl. Laughing, Peter leaves me to finish dressing and closes the door behind him, locking it again, from the outside_. Seriously, I need to ask Dad for a new lock that he can't pick,_ I resolve after a moment of deliberately glaring at the harmless doorknob. Resolutely, I nod and smirk shrewdly.

Fishing my cell phone out of my pocket, I type out a quick text to Dad and forward it to Mom, saying;

_DON'T ASK BUT…_

_I NEED A NEW LOCK, PLEASE. _

_WE STILL HAVE A SHAMELESS LOCK PICKER IN THE HOUSE._

_THANKS!_

_(Smiley emoticon)_

_PS: BTW, CHARLOTTE TOO_

_-J-_

* * *

_…_

* * *

_**A Week Later**_

"Son?" Carlisle calls from the other side of my closed bedroom door, a welcome interruption to my study session. Stretching against the back of my desk chair, I yawn and stand. "May I come in?"

Walking over to my drum set, about five strides to the corner on the right side of my desk, which is on the extreme left wall once you step into my room, and my bed to the right, and a panoramic view of the trees and pines outside due to a wall to wall and floor-to-ceiling window. Reaching for my drumsticks, conveniently laying on top of the snare, I grab one, and hit the 'crash' cymbal three times in answer. Understanding, Carlisle opens the door with a warm smile in place, enters my room, and walks over toward me as close as the desk while I remain frozen by the drum set.

_Hi, Dad_, I silently offer with a shy wave, which he reciprocates. Somewhat, I relax and decide to sit on the round leather chair.

"Esme called and she's almost home." Nervous and fidgeting again, I blink up at Carlisle. "Our new addition to the family will be arriving in" -Carlisle consults his watch- "one hour. If you wish to welcome and greet her, you should come downstairs then…" he explains and adds, "Only if you are up for it, okay?"

Frowning slightly, I nod. I have so many questions I wish to ask but nothing worth mentioning just yet. Mainly, I'm nervous and excited. _But this could be trouble… what if… _I shake my head.

"Alright son, I'll leave you to your studies then," he bids and pausing at the door, looks backs and gently adds, "We'll also have dinner when she gets here and proper introductions are made all around. But Esme and I will understand, of course, if you wish to have your plate brought to your room… for tonight." And with those final words, Carlisle walks away, presumably heading to his study, and I am left frowning and pondering.

She was finally coming… _She,_ meaning Isabella Marie Swan age, sixteen, _my_ age. It had been but a week ago that Peter, Charlotte, and I were told of her upcoming arrival by Carlisle and Esme. Apparently, she was recently orphaned, due to some obscure and undisclosed events that they wouldn't tell us about without Isabella's permission. Isabella is being extended the same courtesy all of us got extended the day we agreed to call the Cullen's home our home, full disclosure on our terms, and we couldn't argue with that. I couldn't argue with that.

Though I was immensely curious, I knew what it felt like to have your privacy intruded and your secrets probed at and I wouldn't dream of doing that to anyone. Especially not with someone with a name so beautiful that there lay no doubt in me that the owner has to be as equally fitting and deserving. _Isabella Swan had yet to arrive and she's already an enigma…_

I'm so on edge that when I suddenly hear an insistent buzz coming from my desk, it startles me and I jump right out of my seat in alarm, heart halfway out my throat, before I calm down and realize that it's just my cell phone, harmlessly laying on my desk and vibrating an alert.

_Silly me… _I chide and walk over to the desk and the inanimate object on top, watching it warily. Gingerly, I pick it up, press down on the home button and the screen pulses into life, illuminating the little screen and prompting for my password. Charlotte and Peter have simultaneously texted me, each letting me know that the hour is up and that our newest family member and Esme are just turning into the driveway, a few moments from arrival, and that I better haul my behind downstairs or they will haul it for me.

Humorlessly, I chuckle. Unlike Carlisle and Esme, they aren't giving me the choice of keeping to myself. Despite that, those two probably understand my aversion to anyone and everyone as if it were their own phobia, they never do allow me to give in to it and take the easy way out. They are sadistic that way. I scowl. Clearly, they want me to face it and they are each letting me know that they will be there for moral support and to see me through it.

Heart pounding crazily in my chest and creeping closer and closer to my throat beat by agonizing beat, like it always did on the first hours of school and during lunch time, I unexpectedly feel faint, clammy, and slightly disoriented. _God, I'm terrified… if she touches me, that'll be it, she'll think I'm a freak or worse, that it's her fault…_

My phone buzzes once again and glancing down at it, I see that it is another text from Peter dearest. Swiping my fingers over the smooth screen and entering my password as prompted in the process once more, I slide down and peruse the _'Ongoing'_ menu at the top left corner of my screen, touch down on the '_New Text_ _Message_' section of the light gray screen located toward the bottom, and once the screen transitions into the inbox screen, I open the unopened text with bold letters and read;

…

_QUIT YOUR WORRYING, _

_YOU'LL ONLY GET YOUR PANTIES IN A BUNCH. _

_GET DOWN HERE, NOW! _

_CHARLOTTE IS GETTING ON MY NERVES (Angry emoticon) _

_BTW, DON'T TELL HER I SAID THAT…_

…

Chuckling darkly, I pocket my cell phone without bothering to reply. My hands are shaking too much for me to hit the right keys on my touch screen, anyway. Grimacing slightly at how well my brother knows me, I sigh dejectedly and decide that, ready or not, I had to go downstairs and face Isabella Swan. Otherwise, face Peter and Charlotte's wrath later… Neither of these two options were appealing in the slightly so I choose the lesser of two evils, I hope, and resolve to go meet Isabella Swan.

Just as I'm over the threshold of my bedroom door on my way downstairs, I hear the door open, remember something, and do a quick about-face, heading back into my room and toward my drums set. Running my fingers frantically through my wisp flaxen hair, I reach with the other toward the snare and grab my drumsticks, pocketing them on my right back pocket. _There, that shall help me calm down a bit if I get too nervous… _Content with my plan, I take a breath of oxygenated courage and head downstairs.

* * *

_…_

* * *

Inching my way downstairs at an idle pace, I catch glimpses here and there of Isabella Swan as Carlisle and Esme take turns introducing Charlotte and Peter or saying something interesting about them or the house while she listens on with a bit of an impassive bearing about her. Taking my time, I tune out the sound of my family's voices and focus on taking in the scene before me and tonight's focus of attention, Isabella Swan.

Isabella's skin is alabaster white, smooth and lithe, the bit of her face I can see that isn't obscured by shadows or her tresses seems small, her eyes dark and large, and her locks are a glossy, dark shade of mahogany that cascades down her shoulders in subtle, thick waves to just below the swell of her plum breasts. From what I can see, she's about Esme's height, an inch or two taller, perhaps, with a slim but curvaceous figure and ungainly disposition. Indeed, as I suspected, she _is_ truly beautiful.

My assumptions are further confirmed when her neck cranes to the left as Carlisle motions toward the general direction of our kitchen and dining room and I have a better view of her neck when she moves her hair out of her field of vision and over her shoulder with a feeble but effective flick of her hand. Immediately I see that her neck is a long and elegantly thin column, like her last name implies. Next, I notice her lips, plum, naturally outlined to definition, and invitingly cherry, as she parts them and says something to my family that causes them to smile indulgently at her.

However, as I look on I realize that there is more to her than her beauty by the way she carries and holds herself. She's painfully shy, it would seem, and the way she sporadically stretches an arm across her torso and chest to rub at her arms, makes it seem like she's trying to hold all the pieces of herself together. Something I recognize, because I do the same at least five times throughout the day for the past two years, and especially around strangers or anyone that makes me uncomfortable…

"Son, thank you for joining us," Carlisle greets and beams at me with a twinkle of pride shining in his cobalt eyes as soon as he catches sight of me. Everyone's attention shifts to me and I quickly descend the last four steps to the last, keeping my gaze fixed on Isabella.

As soon as I reach the last step of the stairs, my almond-shaped gray eyes lock with the brown doe eyes of Isabella Swan and my breathing hitches and catches in my throat, almost causing me to choke on my spit. Out of the blue, my entire body goes on automatic lock down. Next thing I know, I'm super glued to the spot on which I stand with all eyes on me and captivated. _Or so it feels… _

A breathtaking moment transpires and Isabella's gaze diverts from mine and I can breathe again, and just in time too. I felt faint and my mind was beginning to cloud with cobwebs. _Her eyes are hypnotizing and I almost drowned in their depths of guarded secrets and suppressed anguish… That's it, _I muse sadly_, there's a touch of darkness in her. She's a Black Swan… _the thought comes unbidden and it disturbs me.

"Come closer, son, and meet Isabella Swan." Tentatively, I do as I'm asked. Taking the last step, I join my family in the foyer and gather around Isabella with them. "This is Jasper, Isabella," Carlisle proceeds to introduce and I flush slightly as I meet Isabella's gaze again at this proximity. Bemused, it doesn't escape my notice that she, too, is delicately flushed and that her hands immediately went to hug herself the moment it would have been appropriate to extend a hand and shake. _Not that I'm about to complain, that suits me just fine…_ "He's our other son. Jasper, Isabella."

_It's a pleasure, _I want to tell her. Instead, I incline my head in greeting.

"He's pleased to meet you Isabella," Peter translates for me and coughs. When I look at him, he is smirking knowingly at me. My eyes crinkle and twitch at the corners with the effort to keep my eyes from rolling at his audacity. Fleetingly, Charlotte's fingers wrap around mine and squeeze, easing some of my discomfort and letting me know that she'll get Peter later for me. I squeeze gently back and the contact is gone and again I am glad that no one is touching me.

"Please, call me Bella," she mumbles, nodding at me politely as she blushes further and shuffles self-consciously on her feet with an arm across her chest and her hand mindlessly caressing her forearm. My eyes widen at her nickname and the subtle implication behind it as I swallow thickly around the lump in my suddenly parched throat.

_Crap, crap, crap… I'm so toast I might as well be deep-fried… _When I don't say anything, she glances over at me from under her lashes and I stop breathing again, only managing to nod stupidly at _Bella_. Once again, she breaks eye contact and I take a lungful of much-needed oxygen to freshen up the wilting blood cells in my brain. _Hmm… being around Isabella Swan isn't healthy, _I deduce.

"Sorry Bella, how silly of us to forget!" Esme apologizes, looking sheepish and pressing her palm to her forehead with a light tap as if to juggle her brain back into action. _I wonder if that'll work for me…_ "Jasper doesn't speak, we've gotten so used to reading him that we sometimes don't notice any more and forget that there aren't any exchanges of words occurring."

"Oh! Yeah, once you get used to it, you'll be able to read his every move," Peter advocates. "Like me!"

_I sure hope not… _I think anxious.

"I'll keep that in mind…" With this new bit of information, Bella glances at me and the pitying look that I expect to see dwelling in the depths of her coffee eyes isn't there. Rather, I see… _understanding _and _recognition?_ Eyes unwavering, she holds my gaze a moment longer than I would normally expect and nods. _Is she trying to tell me something? _I dazedly wonder and idly seek the comfort of my drumsticks. Slightly dubious and almost a moment too late, I return the nod and try to look as apologetic as I can manage through my astound state. _Bella's telling me that… she understands and that it's okay…?_

Baffled by this discovery, my eyes rove over her face, trying to read what I find and see there so as not to reach the wrong conclusions because it _might _be what I want to see there. Still, I reach the same conclusion the second time around. Bewildered by the intensity behind Bella's resolute gaze, I take an involuntary step back to try to put some distance between us. Thankfully, it goes unnoticed by Bella who is now busy staring at the cast on her left foot… _I hadn't noticed that before… _But not by the rest of the family, they all had seen how close I'd gotten to her, voluntarily, before catching myself.

"Welcome to our home, Bella," Charlotte offers warmly, rescuing the eerie atmosphere I'd created. Glancing at her, I offer an appreciative smile and she shakes her head subtly in dismissal. "I hope you can call it your home as well, in due time." Esme and Carlisle beam at Charlotte with obvious pride before their encouraging gazes switch to Bella with simultaneous expectation.

"Thank you…" Bella murmurs, modestly and bashful, cheeks coloring again.

"Now," Esme begins eagerly, "shall we proceed to dinner?"

Now that the introductions are out of the way, Peter catches my eye and with a funny look on his face, raises a questioning brow. Shaking my head, I shrug and give him my best '_beats-me_' look. Narrowing his eyes at me and giving me a meaningful look that says he knows better, Peter lets it go and my shoulders sag with relief, for now.

* * *

…

* * *

That night, Peter and Charlotte came into my room to bombard me with questions in regards to my odd and inexplicable behavior and I remained as tight-lipped as ever, no pun intended. Once they gave up on their inquisition, I unceremoniously shooed them out of my room and went to bed, thinking about one Isabella Swan, the _Black _Swan...

Throughout dinner, Bella sat right across from me and to Charlotte's right, which made it easy for me to steal furtive glances here and there. None of which were reciprocated. As the night went on, my interest in her had not dwindled in the slightest. Instead, it had increased and this development had me at my wit's end. Because as soon as dinner started and all manner of conversations broke around the dining table, Bella's quiet voice became as mute as my own and she never joined in any of our conversations.

Even when we all helped Esme clean the table and got ready to retire for the night by bidding everyone goodnight, Bella didn't speak. She'd just followed quietly after Charlotte, who'd been appointed to show Bella to her own bedroom, and waved, over her shoulder at everyone else without spearing a glance, looking paler than her usual and weary on her wobbly foot and cast.

Esme, somehow sensing my distress, discreetly told me not to worry and give her some time to adjust. Eventually, my mind grew weary and my brain refused to think any more about Bella Swan and I fell asleep…

* * *

…

* * *

Two hours later and in a cold sweat, I wake to the sound of muffled screaming, disoriented. It took me a long moment to realize that it wasn't _I_ the one screaming and when this realization hit me, I pulled off my covers and padded out of my bedroom on bare feet to find the owner of that elucidated scream. My muted footfalls took me down the hallway to my left, passing many closed doors until I stopped before Charlotte's and frowned. _Charlotte's the one screaming?_

My ears strained again and I realize that the screaming is coming from two doors down Charlotte's and across. Slightly surprised, I proceed down the hall to the slightly ajar door and the screaming grows more insistent and tortured. Steeling my nerves, I take a deep breath and let it out in a shudder.

Pushing it further open, I realized that this is the room Esme had been painstakingly preparing for Bella's arrival. Hesitantly, I entered her room and fleetingly wondered why it was that I was the only one coming to Bella's room when Charlotte's is but a few doors down. Pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind for now, I silently approached Bella's thrashing form under the bed covers. As my steps take me closer to Bella's bed, I become conscious of the fact that her screams are a _name_.

"_James… James… please, no, James…" _she screams over and over in a frightened loop that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end and every hair follicle itch with foreign bile. It's as if the wrath is mine but not mine. _Such a strange and alien sensation…_

Standing by the foot of Bella's bed, I stare down at her and notice that Bella looks sickly pale and clammy in a cold sweat, tangled in her bed sheets and cover. Hesitantly, I reach out my hand and brushing aside the hair sticking to her forehead with sweat, I feel her temperature with the tips of my fingers and then my full palm. She's _cold_… I summarize, shocked.

Worried, I turn to leave and find Carlisle in the hopes that his expert eyes will see or determine something I can't and provide Bella with proper care. However, before I manage to so much as take a step in the direction of the door, I am startled into absolute pause by a clammy hand wrapping around my wrist with a vice grip and sending my heart catapulting into a thundering sprint. Gulping uneasily and with trepidation, I glance down at my wrist with alarm.

Bella's long fingers, delicate and surprisingly strong, are holding my wrist with a violent tremor that reverberates through me and a tremor runs through me in equal reciprocation. Following the stretch of her extended arm, my eyes land on Bella's haunted face, which I can see crease with fear and anguish with the help of her dim night-light. However, what has me rapture is the silently plea I see in her eyes.

_Staring at Bella is like staring in the mirror,_ I conclude a beat later, _or like staring into the still waters of a lake_. It is terrifying and I can't suppress the shiver that runs through me in the wake of my errant thoughts. Suddenly becoming distractingly aware of the fact that Bella is still holding my wrist and that I haven't wrenched my arm away from her touch, I gape down at the point of contact. Still, Bella doesn't let go.

Swallowing thickly, I force myself to breathe evenly. Fixing my steady eyes on Bella, I gauge her rippling emotions with a calm disposition and further astound myself. _What is going on here?! _I mentally wail. Surprisingly, maybe because I had been the one to reach out to her first, Bella's touch isn't as discomforting as I'd expected. _Weird… _

"Don't go," she croaks, "_please_?" Her voice is husky with emotions and unshed tears, making my heart constrict. "Stay?" She pleads next, disarming me. "I'm so _afraid_…" Bella closes her eyes and swallows thickly around the lump of her terror. "Every time I close my eyes I see… he…"

Unable to deny her request, I nod and acquiesce. Bella's hand begins to slip from around my wrist and next, it is me reaching out to hold on to her hand in a panic. Wide eyed, she gazes up at me but allows me to keep on holding onto her hand. _I _need the comfort of her touch. Besides, I don't know what might happen if the point of contact breaks_… I don't want to leave her like this if I suddenly come to my senses once she isn't touching me. _Boldly, I link our fingers together like I have seen Peter and Charlotte and Carlisle and Esme do so absentmindedly in the past.

The sensation is so… _gratifying _that I'm beyond shocked and had I been able to speak in the first place, would be speechless right about now. That not being the case, my mind goes blank and a slight tug from Bella restarts my brain and brings me back to the here and now. Glancing over at her, I notice her motioning to her empty bedside, shyly offering me a place to sit and trying to give me enough space by backing further to the opposite end of her bed, as much as our linked fingers allow.

Bella, noting my hesitation, shrugs and motions to the floor beside her bedside. Glad for her intuition and consideration, I decide to do something I might regret and not giving myself much of a chance to think over what I'm about to do, I lay next to Bella in bed. For a long moment, all I can hear is the rushing of my blood pounding in my ears and my shallow breathing as I keep my eyes shut tight and Bella leaves me to my moment. After a few beats I am aware that my breathing steadily deepens into peaceful intakes and that the ache is disappearing the tighter I hold on to Bella's intertwined fingers in mine.

Bella's gentle squeeze back prompts me to ease up on my grip and I hear her sigh next to me. Intrigued, I open my eyes and glance over at her to see her staring up at the ceiling. Following suit, I let our linked hands lie between us without touching any other part of our bodies and stretching a little more comfortably, stare up into the ceiling with her. There, I admire the swaying shadows cast by the light of the moon outside Bella's floor-to-ceiling window.

"Thank you," Bella murmurs after a long time, slightly startling me because I'd thought that she'd fallen asleep. Since her breathing had been so even, deep, and quiet for so long. "Sorry," she mumbles apologetically, "I didn't mean to startle you."

Sheepishly, I glance over at her and offer a reassuring smile. _I thought you were asleep, _I tell her mentally and shrug, hoping Bella understands my quiet meaning.

"You thought I was asleep, didn't you?" she supplies after a moment of scrutiny and staring into my eyes. I nod. Bella smiles, a brilliant smile that lights up her eyes and becomes my favorite smile the very instant. "I think I'll get the hang of this soon enough…" she muses, content, and yawns.

Yawning slowly myself, she giggles slightly and I run my fingers through my hair nervously. After a moment's hesitation, Bella settles on her side, keeping the same distance as before between us but now looking my way. Unable to be as audacious as she, I settle for just turning my head in her direction and gazing at her with a small, reserved smile tugging at my lips. Sighing peacefully, Bella burrows deeply under the covers and closes her eyes tiredly. To avoid the sudden desire to watch her sleep, I, too, close my eyes.

Eventually, without noticing, I'm asleep and though my nightmares try to creep up on me time and again, they don't and I sleep, for the first time in two years, peacefully…

* * *

_…_

* * *

The following morning I wake up later than usual and Bella is in my arms with my arm casually draped around her waist and her cheek over my heart and her arm casually resting over my torso, while her cast encased foot tangled with mine. In a moment of disoriented panic, I stiffen and my heart speeds up uncontrollably but Bella just continues to doze, mumbling unintelligible things in protest, and burrows deeper into my side, until I am forced to give in and calm down.

Hesitating about three times, I finally raise my right hand and run it along Bella's long tresses, sprawled over my torso and ribs in a stunning chaos of mahogany. In sleep, Bella looks younger and peaceful and if possible, more beautiful. Especially under the first rays of the morning sun illuminating and highlighting the paleness of her skin, accentuating the slight rosy flush over her cheeks, slightly parted cherry lips, bringing out more colors on her locks, and casting longer shadows under her long eyelashes.

Unable to remove myself from Bella's embrace, I'm soon enveloped by her lethargy and blissfully falling asleep again.

* * *

_…_

* * *

"…Jasper…"

Next time I woke, I felt Bella stir with me and when I opened my eyes, Carlisle Cullen was staring down at me with a mask of impassiveness. I stiffen. Next to me, I feel Bella rubbing her eyes and trying to coax them into opening.

"Morning, Jasper," Carlisle greets. Though I can't read his expression, his tone sounds somewhat amused.

"M-m-morning," I stutter out and Carlisle chuckles. "Am I in trouble?" I dare ask, sheepishly. Curiously, Carlisle glances at me as Bella joins the land of the waking and stiffens as her eyes land on Carlisle and widen comically. Obviously amused now, he shakes head. "No, Jasper." I sigh. "Good morning Bella."

"M-m-morning," Bella stutters, much like I did.

"Imagine my surprise when I came in to check up on you," Carlisle teases, causing Bella to blush furiously and bury her face between her hands and my chest. "I was really worried and since your files say that you haven't slept past six or more than three hours for a while, I wanted to make sure that you were okay and feeling at home," Carlisle continues and frowns, his tone more serious now. "I'm glad to see you are and that Jasper is helping you." Now, it's my turn to blush.

"Jasper came in last night, I think he heard me screaming in my sleep," Bella explains, "and when he was about to slip away, to get help, I think, I was so afraid that I asked him to stay…" she trailed off, shrugging. "And then we just fell asleep."

"You don't need to justify yourself to me, Bella," Carlisle reassured her while looking at me. "I'm glad the both of you finally got a decent night's sleep for once." He smiled. "However, I suggest you both make yourself ready for breakfast and I mean," he pauses ominously, "before Esme comes find you."

Bella looks at me, eyes wide and inquiring. I nod. _Esme can be quite terrifying, when it comes to nutrition… _Just _thinking_ about the last time I went on a hunger strike and Esme forced me to eat three days worth of food in one morning makes me shudder.

"Trust me, Bella, you might want to make an effort and eat something even if you can't stomach it," Carlisle sighs wistfully. "I'm afraid my wife would rather you throw it up lather than not eat it…" he shrugs, "go figure." With that said, Carlisle does an about-face and heads out the door, all the while whistling under his breath.

"He's _kidding_, right?" Bella beseeches.

Solemnly, I shake my head. _I'm afraid not_.

Bella's horror is so evident in her face and silent chuckles ripple through my body at the spectacle. The next second, her eyes narrow and without realizing how, I find myself on all four and on the floor, laughing even more and clutching at my sides. _Laughing this much hurts! I didn't know! Or, I had forgotten…_

Meanwhile, Bella, still, sitting on the bed gazes down at me with a mixture of shock, worry, and amusement, which makes me laugh anew at the absurdity and her uncanny ability to feel so many emotions combined at once and managing to show them all at the same time. Clearly, she hadn't been aware of her own strength… then again, I had been really close to the edge.

Next thing I know, she hits me across the face and the top of my head with a pillow. I freeze. She freezes. I glare at her, impish. She gulps. Standing up slowly, I face her and she scurries back as I reach with my hand toward the bed. Smirking, I grab a pillow and she squeals just as I hit her with my newly acquired pillow across her belly and a pillow fight ensues.

Soon enough, Peter and Charlotte appearing in the doorway looking panicked and worried. Upon seeing the scene, they smirk at each other, clearly surprised and beyond amused, disappear, and a moment later join in on the fight with their own pillows and taking the fight to a new level. A moment later, the fight moves from the bed to the center of Bella's room, the boys against the girls, and feathers and cotton pounds out of the pillows with each blow.

"What-" Peter and I chance a glance over our shoulders to the door as the girls stare over them also. Carlisle and Esme appear in the doorway, probably attracted by the squeals and giggles the girls are making and Peter's sporadic war cries. "Oh my, Carlisle, I think we're going to need new pillows," Esme muses, clearly amused and smirking.

"I think we will," Carlisle agrees, smiling impishly at her, "Please, don't stop on out account. We'll be right back…"

When Carlisle and Esme returned, they were each carrying a king sized pillow of their own and joined in on the fight while Peter protested, saying something about unfair advantage, which earned him a pillow slap from Carlisle.

* * *

…

* * *

An hour later, the six of us were all crowded around the kitchen island, eating the breakfast Esme had prepared, enjoying each other's company, and covered in feathers and fibers of cotton.

"Charlotte, it is rude to point," Esme chides mockingly, lips quirking into an easy smile. Meanwhile, Charlotte continued to giggle and point at Esme's head, which is full of feathers and giving the impression that she is wearing a bird's nest headpiece.

"You still look ravishing, love," Carlisle comments, pecking her lips and causing us all to chuckle, and Esme to blush. "I better go or I'll be late for my shift at the hospital," Carlisle announces fifteen minutes later with a disappointed sigh.

"Alright," Esme sighs as well, equally disappointed. "Go get ready and I'll pack you some lunch."

"Thank you." He kissed Esme's cheek and turned his attention to the four of us. "Don't have too much fun without me, you lot." He narrowed his eyes at each of us, lips twitching. Peter snorted. "And no pillow fights." We all laughed and he chuckled. With a finally wink, Carlisle retired to his and Esme's room to dress for the hospital and the atmosphere instantly simmered down.

Taking another phew bites from my blueberry pancakes; I bump shoulders with Peter to get his attention. Good naturedly, he scowls. I smirk and incline my head in Esme's direction. He nods, understanding exactly what I'm asking him to do.

Taking a deep breath with a theatrical roll of his amber eyes, he calls, "Esme?"

"Yes, Peter?" Esme acknowledge without turning away from the task at hand.

"Jasper is wondering if he might be excused now."

"Is that so?" Esme and Bella look at me simultaneously and I fidget, nodding. "Alright," she accedes.

Standing and taking my plate to the sink, I rinse it, place it on the dishwasher, and gently stroke Esme's forearm in thanks before leaving the kitchen and heading up to my room. I need some time with my drums to vent, disintoxicate, and think on my own. So much has happen since last night that my head is reeling in reverse fast-forward.

Therefore, as soon as I got into my room, I locked the door behind me and barricaded it with the wooden trunk I usually placed at the foot of my bed. Just in case Peter got any ideas of picking my lock, he would get the hint. Sitting at the drums and readjusting my chair out of habit, I pick up my drumsticks and get lost in my music, drumming out the pound of my heart as I remember it from last night when Bella's eyes first held my gaze and this morning waking up with Bella in my arms…

The rhythm heady, pulsing, hypnotic and alluring… Just like the sound of a heartbeat before it reached flat line, making my blood rush and boil under my skin as I increase the tempo. Surging adrenaline now pulsing through my veins and setting my blood ablaze, unwanted memories come to the surface and without meaning to, I remember…

* * *

…

* * *

_** A/N: **__This is how much I have of this story for now, please review, because they are highly welcome and appreciated, if you want the next chapter any time soon. Thank you for reading. __Reviewers__ will be __rewarded__ with a __teaser__! _


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